Impious Tango
by jokerkind
Summary: College student, Brigid Adamson, has unknowingly been targeted by none other than Jeff the Killer. Fascinated, the perpetually-grinning man observes and finally acts out, a terrible outcome donning on the both of them. [ Developmental Jeff the Killer x OC. Pastamonsters-ish universe? ]


**I.**

Brigid Adamson.

It rolled off the tongue so easily, so _nicely_.

That was the name, the name of the girl sitting with crossed legs on a park bench, scrawling in pen over a page. A young college student, she was, in an apparently hipster-esq phase – whatever that even meant. She wore floor length skirts and cropped shirts when out of scrubs, hair a pleasant mess, makeup done precisely and beautifully for no one other than herself.

Bluh.

The creep in the white sweatshirt not too far away surely didn't care about those odd clothes she partook, pale grey eyes watching almost boredly, expression shrouded by a hood. The only thing visible was a nasty pair of scars, a permanent grin set into his visage.

Beneath it all, there was an inkling of fascination. To get nearer, do something. Ghostly fingers passed over the blade in his pocket.

As the first few drops of a warm rain fell from the sky, he heard the girl swear aloud, lips curled into a frown at the now-bleeding ink on her paper. In the centre of her bottom lip was a ring, silver and clean, glinting against the brightness of the clouded sky.

Hastily, she packed up and rose to her feet, slinging a well-used messenger bag over her shoulder. Well cared for hands smoothed the front of her skirt and she set off, down the footpath and into the cover of the wooded area, passing and smiling dryly to any who passed her by.

Carefully, the hooded man followed, keeping just the bare distance necessary. Honestly, it was kind of risky, getting this close in broad daylight. There were countless people about, groups of power walking women (what was with that anyway?), teenagers smoking and laughing, and families walking their dogs. There were voices all about, presences, and the sounds of cars on the street just past this stretch.

It was a well populated area, and it certainly was a stupid notion to follow some girl.

That was what Jeff tried to tell himself as he found the parking lot just a few yards before him, watching the form of the girl sway off onto the faded black pavement, to a pickup truck. She climbed in and tossed her bookbag to the side, seemingly disgruntled.

As she pulled out of the parking lot, the man lingered in the cover of the trees and brush. Once the truck was out of sight, he hefted a sigh, fingers dragging through the front of his unruly hair.

Yeah, just creep around and watch a girl whenever he got the chance. He saw this brown-haired girl around quite frequently, when he was out at night, walking, and in the park, much like today. It became a normalcy of sorts.

A creepy normality, but, nonetheless – the murderer was creepy either way, so there wasn't exactly a way to work around it.

_Why?_

He swore to himself and wandered into the deeper wooded parts of the area, hands tucked into his pockets, pale fingers ghosting over the blade concealed in the front pocket, red-tinged and jagged.

For quite some time, he sat and pondered things. His captivation with this girl, how he seemed to feel... something, every time he saw her about. The killer mistook it for anger at first, so long ago. How long? Oh, it had to have been nearly a month at that point.

Sigh.

This was getting to be almost pathetic.

Until dark fell, he remained in the woods. Any kids who wandered out that way, high or otherwise, was dead meat. The sudden bout rage he felt towards himself was to be inflicted upon others; making them beautiful and basking in the carnage and satisfaction of collecting parts and bringing them home as trophies.

Cleaned bones and grossly preserved eyes and bits lined windowsills in the abandoned house on the sleepy skirts of town. It was the place Jeff called home. Run down and overgrown, but a place to stay. There were several fireplaces in the two-story Victorian, keeping it warm in the long abandoned location.

It was... cosy.

As the comforting blanket of darkness fell over the town, Jeff wandered into the dull light of the moon. Patches of the milky light filtered in through the heavy cover of clouds, making his papery skin even more iridescent against the blackness of his surroundings.

The killer walked, stalking along backstreets and shrouding himself with his hood on mains, pointedly avoiding high-crime areas simply because of the cops. He'd had a near run-in with them once a short time back, at perhaps one of the worst moments. Drenched in blood, Jeff had barely made it away in time, taking a bullet wound to the shoulder as he skittered into the brush.

This, however, would be nice. Entertaining, even.

_Maybe she'll scream._

**x**

Somewhere other in town, the woman known as Brigid unlocked the door to her apartment, pushing the door open and stepping inside. She was greeted with the meows of her little kitty, oddly enough discovering a note taped to his collar, of all places.

Gingerly, she picked him up and peeled the note away, unfolding it with a grim little smile – her roommate had gone out to 'have some fun.' She would most definitely _not _be 'coming and kicking it too!'

"Kiersa, please, "

Cold eyes rolled in their sockets as she crumpled the note and walked further into the apartment, sighing exasperatedly.

The soft clatter of cat food rolling into a dish was one of the only sounds in the place, followed by the crumpling of the bag. The little kitten barreled into the kitchen at the sounds, skidding to a stop before his bowl.

Brigid sighed and shuffled back to her room, kicking off her boots and returning to the front, promptly flinging herself over the back of the couch. The action elicited a few painful pops from her back and she had to take a moment to grimace, before rolling onto her side to feel around blindly for the television remote.

A bit of fumbling and the PS3 across the room was started up remotely, the television flickering to life, suspended above the mantelpiece. _Atlantis: The Lost Empire_ was put on play on Netflix, and the brunette rolled to lay on her back, sighing as she relaxed into the cool of the cushions.

Thoughts of the night's assignment came to mind – but she wouldn't be going in for rounds in the labs or classes tomorrow, so there was a few days' time to complete the task. Some paper on what they'd covered in Organic Chemistry. Whatever.

As the evening wore on, the woman dozed off, Xenon the kitten curled against her abdomen.

She stirred once, to the sounds of her roommate shuffling in, giggling, at some ungodly hour. Murmuring incoherently at the disturbance, Brigid sat up, tossing a hazy glare in Kiersa's direction. She was drunk again, much to her dismay, the taller woman stumbling over to the couch and waggling her eyebrows.

"You sh'da come out, Bri." she teased, tone pitched high. The other sighed and lifted Xenon off her, placing him on the cushion at her feet. Swinging her legs off the couch, she rose to her feet, swaying.

"Go the fuck to bed, I'll bring you some water." she commanded weakly, moving to the front to lock the deadbolt. Kiersa groaned and complied, not after poking around in the kitchen for some food, of course. She left down the hall with the bag of Munchies, wiping cheese dust onto the seat of her white skirt.

_Nice._

Going to rummage through the cabinets for a clean glass, Brigid watched as Xenon bounced in and curled around her feet, getting beneath the sheer tails of her skirt. With a little snort, she walked down the hall with the water, stopping into the bathroom to get aspirin. From there, she moved blindly into Kiersa's room.

"Dear God, this place looks awful, " she commented, glancing around at the silhouettes of various things on the floor. She herself didn't have the most orderly room, but this was a far stretch from her usual mess. Some fabric got caught on her foot as she walked, and– is that a thong? Ugh.

Kiersa grumbled and collapsed onto her unmade bed, shucking her shirt and tossing her skirt across the room. What a pretty sight that was. Briget rolled her eyes and placed the water and aspirin on the bedside table. "Now, go to sleep. You look awful." she sighed, waving a hand as she walked back out to the couch.

The television was still on, Netflix running. Xenon lay curled on the back of the couch, a tuft of white fur against the dark cushions. Her bedroom was too far, she decided. She was here, and this was where she would crash, unabashed.

And with that, Brigid collapsed back into a heap on the still-warm cushions and fixed her skirt halfheartedly, rolling onto her side and putting on _Treasure Planet_. Yes, all of the kids' movies. They were easy to sleep to, and honestly still entertained the young woman.

Soon enough, the apartment was quiet, warm, and the soft noises of the television lulled the duo on the couch into slumber.

* * *

**AN: Ayy! Finally making a new story, after about a year of inactivity out this way. I spent a while writing reader inserts and figured, why not pick up OCs and such again? And so we have this!**

**First chapter is setting the scene, kind of, giving a liiiitle lowdown on missy, here, and Jeff. Chapter two will switch to first person, Brigid's POV. I just found scene-setting to be a little easier in third. ****Anyway, everything'll be creepy, kinda funny.**  


**Also - this is published on Wattpad under the user _j0kerkind_, so there's no plagiarism or anything going on here. owo  
**

**All reviews and follows/favourites are much appreciated!**


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